


Citizen Holtz

by saltyparabolae



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Campaign AU, F/F, don't worry Kevin's just her beard, gay!kevin, lawyer!patty, smart!kevin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyparabolae/pseuds/saltyparabolae
Summary: Holtzmann runs for the United States Senate from her farm in Montana.





	1. Prologue, Part I

prologue, part i.

may 2007, ann arbor, michigan

“A toast!” Abby Yates called to her friends, all assembled in Erin Gilbert’s RA dorm. “To being done in a year!”

“Hell yeah!” Patty Tolan agreed, clinking glasses with everyone before shotgunning her beer. “Feels good!”

Erin watched, more than slightly unamused. “Just because the semester’s over doesn’t mean I can be caught with alcohol in my dorm. I want to be out of here in a year because I graduated, not because I was expelled!”

“Erin, it’s just a beer,” Abby reassured. “It’s not like the administration has time to punish us for this anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jillian Holtzmann piped up. “Relax, we’re going home in a few hours. Have all the fun you can now.”

“Fine,” Erin shrugged, and replaced her water with beer. “I don’t know, you guys. I’m so used to college, I still don’t know what the hell I want to do after this. I thought it was going to be figured out by now, but I have more questions than ever.”

“Yep. No clue,” Abby sighed. “Nothing feels quite right.”

“You know, as a kid, I always wanted to be a senator,” Holtzmann said.

“Really?” Erin asked. “Me too.”

“I think you guys should go for it. Honestly. Heaven knows we need some change,” Abby affirmed. “But I think you have to be thirty. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

They both paused, seeing the wheels turning in each other’s minds.

“I’m gonna start a fucking farm,” Holtzmann declared.

“You…wait, what?” Abby sputtered.

“That’s right. Out west there’s less competition, so I gotta move somewhere stupidly small. Next, I have to gain their trust. How do I do that? I become the straightest, most God-fearing chick there ever was, who just so happens to fucking adore agriculture. They think I’m the best goddamn thing since sliced bread –”

“You are.”

“–and then it’s just a matter of flip-flopping back into a Democrat once in office. Boom. Done. Any questions?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes, Erin?”

“Can I be your campaign manager?”

“If there are no other bids,” Holtz scanned the room, finding only two frowning faces, “done!”

“So just to clarify, I still think this is batshit, but count me in as well,” Abby smiled. “What can I do?”

“Alright, priority numero uno is finding me a husband, preferably one with something resembling a sense of humor.” She grimaced; clearly the prospect of marrying a man was the least exciting part of her plan. 

“I’ve got the perfect dude. Want me to call him now?” Abby whipped her phone out and started dialing before Holtz could open her mouth to respond. “Kevin, there’s someone I want you to meet. Can you come to Erin’s dorm now?…Right, I understand…Yep…Can you bring food while you’re at it?…Soup would be great, thanks.”

He arrived in minutes, bearing wontons, for which Abby thanked him profusely, before turning to introduce him to the group.

“Guys, this is Kevin. He’s a friend of mine and I think a perfect husband for Holtz. What do you think?”

“Wait a sec. Holtz, aren’t you the biggest lesbian on campus?” He seemed quite confused, and nobody could blame him.

“She’s gonna run for office as a heterosexual farmer and needs a beard until November 2016,” Abby explained. “Think you can manage?”

“Totally,” Kevin agreed. “Oh, just so you know, I’m gay too. My parents are Mormons; they’ll be delighted that I’m moving back to a flyover state. Which is…where?”

“I’m thinking Montana,” Holtz said. “We’ll see what seat’s easiest, though. So. This marriage is only going to work if we’re both discreet cheaters. You get that, right?”

“Of course.”


	2. Prologue, Part II

prologue, part ii.

august 2008, nowhere, montana

The farmhouse was even smaller than they expected, the farm more expansive than their wildest dreams. And the realtor, well, she was–

“Fantastic! We’ll get you two lovebirds moved in in no time at all! I just think it’s so wonderful to see two young healthy kids like yourselves choosing a lifestyle that pleases our heavenly father so much. Now, I know the house might be a bit small once your family starts growing, and I just know y’all aren’t going to want to stop at just four or five heavenly bundles of joy, but there’s plenty of land for you to build an addition, Mr. Beckman. And Mrs. Beckman, you’ll be happy to hear the kitchen’s in perfectly nice working order, so you’ll have all the time in the world to crank out pies, which I have a feeling you are just amazing at. Now, I have to run because my babies are waiting for me at home – their daddy’s babysitting for the afternoon and we all know how that goes – but y’all give me a call if you need anything at all, okay? And Mrs. Beckman, I’ll be expecting one of your pies soon!”

With that, she was gone, and the two anti-lovebirds were left alone in a silence soon punctuated by their own raucous laughter.

“You don’t actually want to have six kids, right?” Kevin finally gasped.

“Fuck naw,” Holtz drawled. “Can you get to work on that pie now?”

“As soon as you start the addition, dear!”

Both of them hated to merely uphold stereotypes, but it was impossible not to, and they found that farm life rather suited them. There was always something to be done, and Holtz didn’t mind living with Kevin one bit, especially since they slept in separate rooms. They certainly missed their college friends, all of whom were too busy in grad school to even visit. Patty and Erin were both studying to become lawyers; Patty, because it was the only academically challenging program she could find, and Erin, because she secretly thought it would be the only way to advance her political career. Abby was in a writing program, convinced that she needed to learn how to ghostwrite Holtz’s memoir.

Deep down, Holtz wished she was with them in the city. While the farm kept her busy, and Kevin was a good spouse, she missed having a girlfriend. She missed interacting with anyone other than her husband, excluding the occasional visit from the realtor, who only seemed to grow more and more impatient with each visit. Her hinting had achieved whole new levels: “Do y’all have any news for me? No? Well, I’m sorry God hasn’t blessed you with a baby yet but I know it’s His plan for it to happen soon! I’ll keep praying for you! I’d truly hate to see such a worthy couple miss out but I know that won’t happen for you two. Now, have you found a new church yet? And thank you for the pies Mrs. Beckman – can I call you Jilly? – real delicious, I didn’t know you could get any better at making those things but somehow you always do! Aw, you’re going to be such a fabulous mother, I can just feel it!”

Still, there were certain ungodly habits they couldn’t quite shake, such as Holtz’s inability to speak two sentences without dropping an F-bomb, or Kevin’s refusal to call his wife anything other than “Holtz.” It was odd; her identity since she was a little kid had been molded by her lack of interest in anything vaguely heterosexual. It had always been Holtz the befauxhawked dyke running the show from her Doc Martens, and becoming Jillian Beckman was more work than she anticipated. She had time, though; she still wasn’t eligible to run for eight years, so she had space to work out the kinks. For now, it was enough to tend her crops.


	3. Prologue, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At an election coverage viewing party, Holtz receives an interesting offer.

prologue, part iii.

november 4, 2008, nowhere, montana

Holtz could see the realtor, or rather, “please, call me Stacey, Jilly!” from across the polling location, distributing Republican flyers with the fervor of a fire-and-brimstone pastor who’d just received a new shipment of Chick tracts. She whispered as much to Kevin, who laughed. While they usually treated their neighbors with kid gloves, not wanting to alienate the few people they knew could help them in emergencies, election day brought out an intensity in both of them that could ruin relationships. They both figured it would be in their best interests to vote as quickly as possible before hastily retreating back to the farm for the night. All went according to plan, or at least it did until they were halfway back into their truck, when Kevin realized something rather notable.

“Holtz,” he muttered. “We don’t have a television.”

They both considered this for a moment. Indeed, it hadn’t yet been a problem. After all, there was always much to do on the farm, and both of them had books to occupy them in their limited free time. (In reality, they were both nearly broke, and TV hadn’t been important enough to prioritize over something else.) But Kevin was right: experiencing election night without live coverage would be seriously brutal for an aspiring politician whose ambitions could be seriously impacted by the outcome.

Try as she might, Holtz couldn’t seem to come up with any alternative to what he appeared to be suggesting, so she sighed, removed her keys from the ignition, and began trudging back to the school. As she walked, she plastered her smile across her face muscle by muscle until she was convinced she looked like a serial killer. It was what was necessary, after all. Kevin almost did the same out of sympathy, but then he realized that he’d really rather not, and that was what mattered. Still, he didn’t want to leave his wife totally out to dry.

“Stacey!” he called across the hall with as much geniality as he could muster to where she stood, wiping crumbs off a small child’s face.

“Morning, Kev!” she beamed back. “Have you two cast your ballots yet? I’m just so excited to see a military man for president, finally. I mean! Can you ever remember that happening before? Wow. A truly historic election all around! Oh,” she frowned. “Y’all don’t have a TV yet, do you? Can I interest you in joining us for supper first? I’ve got a lovely meal planned in Johnny’s honor!”

“Johnny being…” Holtz prompted.

“McCain, of course, silly! And of course none of this would be possible without Mrs. Palin’s help, I can’t forget her! So I’ll see you lovebirds at 5:30! You know, in honor of the occasion, Jake was even thinking of getting a beer for each of us! I’ll make sure he knows to get two more!” Holtz and Kevin exchanged a look, immediately receiving a “No, don’t worry, of course we’ll put the little ones to bed first! Gotta set a good example in His name!”

The look actually meant “we’re still 20,” “who cares, dumbass, it’s the only way we’re going to be able to handle them all night,” but Stacey didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you so much for inviting us, Stacey, we would love to join you!” Holtz gushed, happy at least to know she wouldn’t have to do any dishes that night.

“But of course! We feel so blessed to have such sweet neighbors now,” Stacey declared, pulling both of them into a tight hug.

The couple pulled away as quickly as they could and amiably sputtered out their goodbyes. Each meeting with Stacey was, well, a lot, and they were just hoping they could process their latest interaction before 5:30.

The supper was awkward, to say the least, but then again, it always was. Stacey’s seemingly absolute need to remind Holtz and Kevin to procreate was only compounded by the presence of her offspring. Every “please,” “thank you,” or “you’re welcome” not only earned a smile for the child in question, it also induced Stacey to make a pointed remark about the joys of fulfilling the heavenly father’s plan for each and every one of us. By the end of dinner, the promise of alcohol was the only factor in Holtz and Kevin’s decision to stay later.

The hours seemed to drag on and on. The effect of Holtz internally cheering with each state called for Obama couldn’t even begin to counteract the whining to be had from Stacey and Jake. “It’s truly amazing,” Stacey mused every few minutes, “that America now values gays and communism over family.”

The gay communists in the room smiled at each other each time she repeated herself, but these became pained smiles, smiles which would have rather stayed home, smiles which had suspected their neighbors’ intolerance before, but still couldn’t avoid the sinking feeling of rejection that always accompanies these kinds of declarations.

Around eleven, Holtz decided to take a bathroom break just to leave the room for a few blessed moments. And around eleven, two very big things happened.

One was that Jake followed her out of the room and promised that as long as Stacey never heard about it, he could help her feel better. She brushed this off, disgusted at the obvious pass, until he elaborated: “Don’t worry, it’s a discreet operation, the feds have no idea. And since you get it straight from me, you know exactly what you’re getting.”

She politely thanked him for his consideration, not yet knowing that she might have to take him up on that offer.

The other was that she phoned Erin for the first time in months from the toilet. The reception was horrid, but it was worth it to hear just a few static seconds of an obviously sloshed grad student yelling at her that “Holtz! Babe! You’re here! You gotta hear this – we did it! We fuckin did it! We won!”

And they had, in fact, won. Holtz could hear a new, somehow even more indignant rant about family values coming from the living room, and took that as her cue to grab her husband and leave.

“You wouldn’t believe this,” she whispered on their way out, “but I think Jake has a meth lab.”

In good spirits, they laughed themselves home and into a beautiful new chapter in American politics.


End file.
